From Alexandria, With Love
by Circe Le Rouge
Summary: A complicated history is unraveld at the same time a deadly plague decides to strike Alexandria. What they have in common might be the only thing that can save the kingdom from devastation.


**From Alexandria, With Love**

** Author's Note:** This is really the first attempt I've had at writing a Final Fantasy IX fanfic. I hope it's up to par with the rest of what's read here. As always I own nothing, especially everything that's rightfully entitled to the creators of FFIX and Squaresoft. The only thing that's mine is the love I have for this magnificent game and as of now, Cheios, Patrick, and Aylen.

** Chapter One**

The musty air was a complete given, and she would've been surprised to find the rickety little tavern in any other condition – especially at this hour at night. She jumped a bit when the rotting wood began to crumple beneath the door handle; a surprise she should've expected. 'Maybe I'm just not cut out to do this.' The shivering hinges that allowed the door to hang sloppily in its frame creaked with disapproval as she opened it further. It was like peering into the home of the foul and the utterly hopeless; the faces were unblinking, and all that moved was the occasional sloshing of froth in the bottom of a mug, a signal to the waitress that one had not finished sinking themselves into bleak desolation. Judging the appearance of what seemed to be the only woman working, she must've been there for hours.

Dagger slipped through the tavern easily enough. She'd assumed before she'd left that she'd fit right in, cleverly donning a tattered black cloak with an oversized hood. Next to the young man, hardly old enough to be twenty, however, she'd blended in about as well as a zebra would in a gaggle of geese. She momentarily feared for her secrecy, not wanting to be recognized, but it turned to be a fleeting notion. The troll-like people occupying the tables were either too drunk to notice her or they were too accustomed to making contact with mysterious, masked strangers. Dagger naturally assumed both, considering just where in Alexandria the bar was located. If the moon's shadow's cast this place in a natural, impenetrable darkness, then it could just as easily cast a shadow on a man's conscious. She didn't doubt that the misdoings that happened here were often unforgivable.

Dagger felt something cool splash to the floor and seep into her boots. She hesitated to look down, but did so anyway when she heard the shouting of a very large, very angry man. A dense glass was laying victim on the floor, having spewed its contents of a guiltless concoction, newly liberated. It thanked her by rolling effortlessly away from the man's fumbling hands as he fell to his knees, clumsily reaching for it. Without the weight of the ale, it glided freely across the floor and stopped at Dagger's feet. She picked it up and handed it precariously to the man who was now getting up off the floor. He didn't really wear what one would call a grateful expression; clenching his fist, no more second nature to the underbelly of society than breathing, he released his rage in what could've easily killed a person of Dagger's size.

Thankfully, he was stopped by a man with a kind face, even if it happened to look like a gnarled tree stump. She regained her composure and thanked the man, wishing that just for one second her awkwardness could be remedied. Anyone could've easily noticed, and the gentle man simply smiled and motioned for her to join him at his table. Two mugs brimming with something garish waited for them, and Dagger didn't bother to conceal her horrified reaction.

"I promise, Miss, it ain't poison." He gulped his drink happily as Dagger shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Wha's wrong, Miss? He wiped his chin with his dangling shirt sleeve, which probably 5 years ago could've resembled something white. Dagger, instead of answering, ran her fingertip over the table's surface. She gagged a bit when the dirt stared back up at her with its slimy eyes, and quickly shoved it under the table to wipe it on her cloak.

The kind man sitting across from her at the table turned red, perhaps from embarrassment, and Dagger immediately felt guilt bite at her with its jagged teeth. "Can yeh excuse tha condition o' mah home, Miss? The sickness, 'tis enough ter keep anyone in bed fer a' leas' a few weeks."

Dagger spoke for the first time, "The sickness?" The gnarled man nodded wearily, an ailed tree with the luxuries of speech and movement.

"Haven't you heard, Miss, or e'en seen it? Why, in here you can practically smell it, not that I'm exactly proud," the man choked on his mild temper, racking his body with coughs as if he wished for an early death. Dagger had noticed how musty and heavy the air had been the moment she'd opened the door, but how could she have missed the stale smell of sick bodies? She took a closer look around; death lurked around every corner, in every shadow, slowly feeding on the innocent people around it. Her people were dying, and she'd had not the slightest clue. Saying that she quickly became mildly horrified was an understatement of epic proportions.

"Yeah," the tree man continued, "ain't nobody who don' got it. 'S nearly turned my home into a place people don' wanna come to no more, remindin' them o' what they can' return to."

"Where are they no longer allowed?" Dagger prompted.

"Them wives don' wan' them home no more," the man said sadly, "don' wan' them ter get the kids sick. Really is sad, t'ain't been no happy faces tha' come through tha' door in ages."

"Don't the wives have the sickness by now as well?" Dagger felt nauseated by the thought of the neighborhood lined with orphanages.

"Nah, 's mainly goin' 'round the men; haven' seen no lady sick wit the disease yet. All day they come in, ne'er leavin', 'cept for when I hafta close up. Don' knows where they go when they leave, bu' it ain't home." The gentle man wiped his chin again, having taken hearty gulps of his drink to ease the sadness. "Hate ta herd 'em ou' like tha', bu' there's jus' no place ta puts 'em all. Would house 'em all 'ere, o' course. I got no kids ter worry 'bout."

"You don't have a wife or kids?" Dagger inquired quietly, knowing how damaging the surfacing of old, but still painful memories could be. She winced as the old man hung his head low, as if death had lunged from the shadows at his neck, and left him to the care of a delicately looped rope as he tugged from the other end with good intentions.

"I 'ad a wife, bu' she died 'bout seven years 'go. Was an airship cap'in in tha' awful war. I'll tell ya, she was the bravest dame I e'er met. Was damn lucky tha she chose me as 'er life partner."

"What happened to her?" A lump formed in Dagger's throat; the man's recollection of his wife was all too familiar.

"'Dunno. She juss ne'er came back. Thought fer the longes' time t'was 'cause she didn' love me no more. Thought maybe was 'cause I hadn' been good enough fer her, maybe tha she'd found someone else. Wouldn' a blamed her fer anythin' in tha world. Found ou' 'bout a year la'er tha the airship she'd been on wen' missin. Was told tha they ne'er could find it; tha they'd tried bu' didn' wanna say nothin' till they was sure t'was gone fer good." He drank what was left in his mug and politely excused himself from the table. He motioned for Dagger to drink what was in her untouched one, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Dagger looked around the tavern again, stopping at the burly man who'd almost attacked her when she'd knocked over his mug of ale. Now he was sobbing quietly, letting warm, salty tears trickle down his face freely. He was too consumed in wretched sadness to feel embarrassed, and pain wrenched at Dagger's heart as she noticed that nearly every face in the dim room, one by one, had sprung to life with varying levels of discontentedness.

A noise broke her stupor, and she turned to see the kind, old man that was talking to her earlier make his way back to the table with a full mug of the same stuff that had not been moved since she saw it waiting there for her on the table when she'd originally sat down.

"Tha's Cheios," he said as he sat down, "the big guy tha near pummeled you." He broke into a sad half-smile filled with pity. "He didn' mean it, tha big ole ogre. Bit rough 'round the edges, bu' on'y 'cause he was 'it firs' with the sickness." He took a large swig from his mug and looked over at Cheios. As his face crumpled with concern, she realized for the first time exactly how tired and frail the old man looked; he rushed from the table as Cheios began coughing violently and she knew what made him that way. 'He would've been a great father,' she thought sullenly.

She weaved in between several tables to reach the old man and Cheios, who was now a ragged shadow of a human melting helplessly to the floor. Blood seeped from his ears as he wheezed noisily, his face a twisted portrait of pain and tears. The old man could do nothing but pat his back lightly in a few futile attempts to stop the coughing. Dagger felt uncomfortable about interrupting, but she had no choice.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I never did get your name." She fought the urge to look at her feet and begin studying the familiar contours of her shoes. She tried looking him straight in the eye as he continued to pat Cheios' back, but the hurt that lingered there was too much to bear.

""S Patrick," he said with a sad smile. Cheios was now a silent and unconscious ball. "I never caught yours, either."

Dagger felt like she greatly owed this man for something, though she didn't know what or why. She untied her cloak and rested it over Cheios, pity finally hitting her with its intended strength. Patrick gaped at her, eyes full of realization. She fumbled at her belt and happily unlaced her coin bag, its weight being only a guilty burden since the moment Patrick had began speaking.

"Please, take this," she said quietly as she thrust the bag with care into Patrick's jerky hands. He waded in a deep pool of ambiguity, and Dagger had to close his hand around the sack to keep its contents from spilling to the floor.

"Bu' my queen," he fumbled. "'S not righ'. I can' accept this." He tried to return the bag brimming with coins to Dagger, but she shook her head exasperatedly.

"I promise, I'll be in touch soon." And with that she left, the creaky door nearly hitting her on the way out.

* * *

When Dagger returned to the castle, Steiner was already waiting for her in her quarters. Despite her restless and sickened disposition, she couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at him. 'You are as vigilant and determined as always, dear friend.' She joined Steiner, taking a place slightly across the room from him as she sat in her favorite chair. He sat in the chair at her desk, his usual spot when they had meetings in her room like this very one.

"Did you come across any information that we didn't have before?" Steiner characteristically got right to the point. 'There's no wasting time with him.' Dagger smiled warmly at her makeshift guardian, letting the pain that she felt wander freely in her eyes. "We have failed again, haven't we?" If it were four years earlier he would've banged his fist against the hard oak of the desk, but considering it was now the seventh tiresome year, he slumped down in his chair with the weight of the world.

"Not all was a loss." Dagger felt somewhat better when she saw that her statement managed to arouse enough energy in Steiner to make him smile.

"Was it good news?" Steiner couldn't tell whether to be upset or excited based from the look on Dagger's face. Reading her expression was like trying to successfully extract blood from a stone.

"Well, yes and no. I met a sweet, old man at the Blue Clover tonight. He owns it, actually." She couldn't help but grin when she remembered how slightly eccentric he had been, or how he'd worn his fraying heart on his sleeve for anyone who needed it most. Had she really been at need? She couldn't quite tell.

"What of him?" Steiner inquired. "What did he have to say? Does he know anything?"

"It's not that he knows something we don't, it's more like something else." She gripped her forearm as she finished, biting her lip and fighting back tears.

"…Princess?" Steiner looked genuinely worried. He rarely called her princess anymore, for now she was queen of all of Alexandria. But at times like these, times when she looked more vulnerable than ever, she reminded him greatly of that awkwardly determined young lady who wasn't quite ready to take control.

Dagger motioned for Steiner to sit back down as she wiped away the few hot tears that had escaped her eyes. Steiner smiled slightly at how much she really had grown from that little girl who needed him desperately. However, soon enough, he knew, he could no longer be there for her when she did need him; not for anyone.

"His wife passed away seven years ago," Dagger explained in a hushed voice, not really wanting to continue.

"Seven years, eh?" Steiner replied in the most casual way he could think of. He didn't want to be the one to help her along the path of misery that she'd chosen to take. Dagger looked at him in surprise, eyes completely betraying how much hurt his nonchalance had caused her. Steiner coughed nervously, hating the way she was looking at him; he couldn't take it any longer.

"Was she an Innocent in the war?" he asked, desperately wanting to make amends. He sighed inwardly as Dagger's look of melancholy returned, chasing away the look of pain that he'd brought on.

"Not an innocent, but she was in the war." Now Dagger was fidgeting in her armchair, struggling to find a comfortable position.

"Did he tell you what happened to her?" Steiner couldn't see where exactly she was going with this, or why she was getting so upset over the death of one person she didn't know more than she did over the thousands of deceased people that remain anonymous to her.

Dagger finally looked him straight in the eye. "She was the captain of the airship that never returned."

Steiner's eyes grew wide as an immediate understanding swelled inside him. "You're…sure? It's… the same one? The same one that…?

"Yes, the same one that failed to bring Zidane home."

* * *

"Mommy, why are you crying?" Aylen patted Dagger's head awkwardly, like the way a police officer tried to comfort a newborn victim of rape.

Dagger's head shot up. She hadn't even heard her daughter come in, let alone seen the sliver of light left by the open door. Had she really been that out of it?

Aylen poked her mother in the nose, and even with the disability Dagger's blurry vision gave her, she could still see the look of childlike concern etched on Aylen's face; it was filled with all the innocence and naitivity that she wished would remain with her forever. She knew it wouldn't, felt it stronger than most times now, and pulled her daughter into her arms. She loved Aylen with every single fiber of her being.

"Mommy, why are you upset?" Aylen whispered as she wrapped her tiny arms around Dagger's neck and burrowed her face into her tangled, dark hair. "Did you have another bad dream about Daddy?" Dagger's body went rigid.

"Aylen, sweetie, what gave you the idea that I have bad dreams about Daddy?"

"I have bad dreams about Daddy sometimes, and I didn't know him too good. I thought that maybe since you knew him better than me, you had bad dreams too." She looked up at Dagger with large blue eyes, blinking slowly.

'Zidane…'

"Mommy?" Aylen prodded when Dagger didn't answer.

"Yes, I have bad dreams about Daddy, too, but I wasn't asleep when you came in."

"What happened, Mommy?"

"Oh, well, I just found something out tonight. That's all, dearling." Dagger stroked the long blonde hair of her beautiful child.

"No, I mean what happened to Daddy? All I know about him is that he died before I was born, and that I look a lot like him. I want to know more, Mommy, please?"

"Now's not the best time, Aylen," Dagger began before she was interrupted.

"You always say that now's not the best time. Now doesn't have to be the best time for you to tell me, right Mommy? Can't you tell me when it's just an okay time?" Aylen pleaded as she tugged on the sleeve of Dagger's nightgown.

Dagger looked down into her daughter's bright blue eyes and couldn't find a way to tell her no. 'Maybe it is time for her to finally know.'

"What do you want to know, Aylen?"

"Everything."

**

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** Author's Note: **Keep checking for updates, Chapter Two is coming soon. I want to take this space to thank anyone who decides to review; I greatly appreciate it. Anyone who's posted something here has to know how gratifying getting reviews feels. For me, it's like a starving man wrestling a pigeon for a breadcrumb and winning. And maybe even eating it even though it's ridden with bird slobber and feathers. Alright, perhaps that's enough. XD Thanks for reading the first chapter, I shall be back soon.

With love,  
Riakan  
3/12/2005


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